


play me and put me away

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 4 + 1 fic, Day 1: Exploration, F/M, Frottage, Katsuki Yuuri: Actual Heartbreaker, M/M, NSFW Victuuri Week 2017, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: Yuuri's only ever wanted one person.(Orfivefour wall kisses to forget and one to remember.)





	play me and put me away

**Author's Note:**

> This...kinda ended up as more Yuuri-centric with Yuuri trying to explore his sexuality and figure out what he likes *coughVIKTORcough* over the years and uhh, getting into a bunch of not-relationships along the way
> 
> Special thanks to forochel for giving me the idea for 5 + 1 fic, bUT AHHH, my writing is not cooperating with me rn, so ugh apologies for the general stupidity and terribleness. 
> 
> Heed the tags, my dudes, Yuuri gets involved with a bunch of other people but nothing too serious

_0_

 

Strictly speaking, Yuuri’s  _first kiss_  happens at the ripe, young age of thirteen and it’s with the limited edition poster of Viktor Nikiforov dressed as Puck for his Midsummer Night’s Dream inspired exhibition skate.

He’d been on the cusp of puberty then, and the Viktor in the poster had stared down at him with bright, mischievous eyes and parted lips that seemed to tease and beckon. And Yuuri had been restless, skin sweaty and buzzing like the cicadas outside his window and when the thought struck, he’d just  _done it_ —eyes closed, lips pursed, and heart beating hummingbird fast inside his chest and wondering how the real thing would feel like.

Yuuri exhales against the pink of Viktor’s lips, a huff of moisture clinging on the glossy surface, just as the door to his room slams open.

“Let me guess,” Mari drawls after a few unimpressed seconds wherein Yuuri dies a few thousand times from sheer embarrassment. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Yuuri almost jumps out of his window right then and there.

 

_1_

 

All Yuuri remembers is that she’s really pretty: tall and willowy, fey-like, with long blonde hair and eyes the color of the sky.

What he doesn’t remember is how they end up like this—kissing in the darkness of the empty studio, bodies pressed flush against each other.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” she gasps, delighted smile spreading on her pink lips as Yuuri crowds her against the cool surface of the mirror, mouth sliding up the graceful column of her neck until he has to go on the tips of his toes— _on pointe_ —to swallow her throaty moan.

He has a crick in his neck for craning his head up for so long, but Yuuri can’t say that minds too much.  _It’s for practice_ , a small part of him thinks resolutely, one hand coming up to tangle with silky blond tresses, earning him another moan that stokes the fire in his belly,  _for practice_.

 

_2_

 

There’s a heady mix of adrenaline and alcohol coursing through his veins and the increasingly familiar taste of Chris’ lip balm and laughter cloying on his tongue.

It’s the aftermath of Skate America and Yuuri has a bronze medal hanging around his neck and the gold medalist pinning him against the wall with a hand on his cock. The scratch of Chris’ stubble on the sensitive skin under his jaw is electrifying and Yuuri moans, only for Chris’s other hand to come up and cover his mouth, cutting off any other sounds clawing out of his throat.

Chris works him mercilessly, relentlessly, with rough strokes that has Yuuri quickly devolving into a shivering, trembling mess. Rumbling French and German reach his ears but Yuuri’s too far gone to parse out the utter filth falling out of Chris’ lips as his orgasm slams into him, jarring his body like the landing to a jump and he comes hard and wet in Chris’ hand.

Cheeks burning, Yuuri takes in a shuddery breath before dropping to his knees.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Chris gasps, pulling at his hair and Yuuri keens, because  _oh, oh_  that’s nice. “You don’t have to,” Chris is saying even as his hips chase after the heat of Yuuri’s mouth against the fabric of his pants.

Yuuri looks up at him through hooded eyes and licks his lips, emboldened by the way Chris’ pupils dilate, black eating up the green of his irises. “I want to,” he murmurs, mouthing wetly at the hard line of Chris’ cock, before smiling, coy and sweet and Chris never stood a chance.

“Show me how to make you come.”

 

_3_

 

The thing is, Yuuri and alcohol don’t mix well.

Phichit would beg to differ, but Phichit isn’t the one on his knees with a stranger’s cock down his throat. Said stranger curses in Russian above him, and  _ah,_  that’s probably why Yuuri is here instead of herding Phichit to their dorm room.

It’s easy enough to imagine that he’s not blowing a nameless, faceless man against a bookshelf, but Viktor Nikiforov instead. And easier still to recall Chris’ crooning instructions on how to bring anyone to their knees,  _oh, oh, Yuuri, your mouth is better than any gold medal and Vitya would be so, so jealous_ —

 

_4_

 

This is all Viktor Nikiforov’s fault.

Viktor Nikiforov and his stupid ESPN body issue that Yuuri’s spent a shameful amount of time jerking off to.

Because Yuuri’s type goes from lithe and lean to muscular powerhouses who can lift him up easily and pin him to the wall as easy as you please, in the span of three glossy pages showing off the hard and sleek muscles on Viktor’s back, chest, and arms. Yuuri moans into— _Chad? Brad? Bradley?—_ someone’s mouth, rocking down against the hard cock pressing against his own as heat licks up his feverish skin. He’s close, and Brad(?) only has to thumb at the spot under the head of Yuuri’s cock before he’s coming with a yell.

 

_+1_

 

There’s laughter bubbling out of him and Yuuri feels so full, fit to bursting with love as he glides haphazardly on the ice, dodging Viktor’s attempts to catch him. It’s the end of another practice session and Viktor’s droning lecture had somehow devolved into a game of cat and mouse, the two of them dancing around with wild abandon.

“Is that all you got, Nikiforov?” Yuuri teases with a laugh that quickly ends in a shriek as Viktor catches him with an arm around his waist, spinning them around so that Yuuri ends up crowded against the boards, Viktor grinning down at him in triumph.

“You were saying, Katsuki?” Viktor mocks, gloved hands sliding down the taper of Yuuri’s waist, to his hips, and finally down the curve of Yuuri’s magnificent ass before pulling. Yuuri’s breath hitches up in his chest, thighs locking around Viktor’s waist automatically while his arms wind around Viktor’s neck.

And then it’s only inevitable that Viktor close the scant distance between them, capturing Yuuri’s mouth in a chaste kiss. It’s nothing more than the faintest brush of lips but it has electricity crackling down Yuuri’s spine that has him deepening the kiss and licking inside Viktor’s mouth with a moan.

Viktor pulls away with a small pop, leaving Yuuri to blink up at him in a daze, flush high on his cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Viktor echoes, kissing a trail along Yuuri’s throat while a hand slips down the back of Yuuri’s joggers, fingers ghosting over Yuuri’s twitching rim.

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps, clutching at Viktor in alarm. He’s suddenly hyper aware of where they are, body seizing up in a panic because  _god, Yuuko would kill him if the girls see them like this_ —

“Yuuko already took the girls to Yu-topia,” Viktor whispers, fingers rubbing small, insistent circles on Yuuri’s hole, and Yuuri feels himself quickly relaxing under Viktor’s words and ministrations, body opening up easily. “Apparently, it’s date night so we have the entire rink to ourselves,” he says with a harsh bite to the lobe of Yuuri’s ear that has him squeaking. “And I have a few ideas how we can spend the time.”

“Oh?”

Viktor’s ideas apparently involve them stumbling out of the rink to shed their skates, because  _I’m a man of many talents, darling, but I don’t think I can fuck you with my skates on and not fall_ , and Viktor once again carrying Yuuri as if he weighed nothing at all and pinning him against the nearest wall.

“You like this,” Viktor says, eyes widening in realization as Yuuri’s cock twitches between their stomachs. “You like it when I carry you.”

“I like  _you_ ,” Yuuri counters easily, because he’s only ever really wanted one person and at this point, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Yuuri likes every single thing about Viktor and he tells him so. “I like everything about you.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathes out, Yuuri’s name leaving his lips like a prayer. “ _Yuuri_ ,” he gasps into Yuuri’s mouth, filling Yuuri’s lungs with  _ViktorViktorViktor_ , until they’re both panting and too keyed up for anything more than a clumsy handjob, Yuuri coming embarrassingly fast and painting Viktor’s shirt with his come. Viktor follows with a half dozen more thrusts into the divot of Yuuri’s hip.

“I had a plan,” Viktor whines after a few seconds, breath hot on Yuuri’s neck. “I even brought lube.”

Yuuri snorts out a laugh, hugging Viktor close even with the mess between their stomachs. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have no fear, they eventually make use of the lube Viktor brought. 
> 
> HAHA GOD i'm so late but heyyy better late than never and all that


End file.
